


Make Gresley Proud

by starconvoy



Category: The Railway Series - W. Awdry, Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Historical, LNER, Steam Locomotive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starconvoy/pseuds/starconvoy
Summary: A talking-train take on the historic 100 mph run made by the one and only Flying Scotsman himself. Names of the human characters are true to the actual men involved in the run.
Kudos: 11





	Make Gresley Proud

_30 November 1934 (Present day)_

The train was light: three coaches and the special car at the end that would record the train’s speed. The man at the controls was eager, almost more eager than the locomotive he was driving. His companion, the fireman, was tired, but he pressed on, shovelful after shovelful of coal thrown into the firebox to feed the engine’s steam output.

“If we hit anything today, we’ll hit it hard,” the driver had said prior to the beginning of their journey.

They had pulled out of King’s Cross and were headed north up to Leeds. Crowds had gathered on the platforms to watch them depart, waving and cheering as they made their way out onto the line and began to pick up speed.

The northbound journey had been a release of nervous energy. The locomotive raced down the descent from Stevenage and subsequently bounded up Stoke Bank near Grantham. They raced along, the engine’s exhaust beat keeping a quick time as they neared their destination.

Finally, they reached the station in Leeds.

“Thirteen minutes ahead of schedule! Good job, Scotty!”

Flying Scotsman smiled to himself as he heard his driver, William Sparshatt call out the time to him. He was only slightly out of breath, but relished the feeling of practically _flying _down the line.

The men in the special car at the back of the train had exited and ran up to the front of the train to inform them of the speeds Scott had reached.

_94.75mph on the descent from Stevenage…_

_At least 81mph going up Stoke Bank…_

_Average speed of 73.4mph…_

“We’ll go faster than that going back south!” Sparshatt said, enthusiastically.

Scott smiled widely. “Yes, sir, we will!”

“One hundred miles per hour! We’ll make Gresley and the LNER proud!” Sparshatt said, patting the side of Scott’s cab.

_Make Gresley and the LNER proud…make Gresley proud… _That was all Scott had wanted in his short life so far. Nigel Gresley was the one man who held all of Scott’s admiration and trust. He would do anything…_anything _to prove that the LNER was the best of the Big Four and that Gresley’s Pacifics were the top of the line.

“Yes, sir,” Scott said. The men nodded and smiled at him. They were all counting on him to set this record.

“There’s a good lad,” Sparshatt said. Scott was uncoupled from the train and headed to the turntable while the rest of the train was turned around.

_Make Gresley proud…_

_\--_

_Several days earlier…_

Flying Scotsman sat calmly in his berth at Top Shed. His services were done for the day and his crew was going about their usual maintenance to keep him in good running shape.

Being a flagship engine meant living a pampered life, particularly at Top Shed. Being a fleet engine couldn’t compare to the treatment Scott and a few of his siblings received. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like otherwise.

Just then, a smartly dressed man entered the shed. He headed straight towards Scott and didn’t pause until he stood in front of Scott’s buffers.

“Scott, there’s something important I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Yes, sir,” Scott said smiling. He greatly admired Nigel Gresley and loved the attention he received from him. It had, admittedly, made several of his siblings (particularly the A3s) jealous, but nothing could tarnish his image as the darling of the LNER.

The workmen quietly moved along to another engine in the shed, just out of earshot. Gresley put an arm on Scott’s buffer beam and leaned against him.

“There’s a train being built in Germany that’s supposed to go very fast. The German’s claim it’s reached speeds of 100mph.”

Scott gasped. He’d only dreamed of going that fast, but wasn’t sure if he was capable of it. Besides, the speed limits on the lines would never permit it.

“I’ve seen this train,” Gresley continued. “They’ve called it ‘Flying Hamburger.’ I asked its designers whether or not this train would be able to make a run between London and Newcastle in four hours.”

“What was their response, sir?” Scott asked, intrigued.

Gresley looked up at him and smiled. “They told me it could do no better than four and a half hours.” Gresley turned his head and looked out across the yard again.

“The train isn’t ideal. It’s too narrow and passengers wouldn’t be comfortable riding it. It’s not what the LNER needs.”

Scott wasn’t sure where Gresley was going with this, but he continued to listen quietly rather than interrupt Gresley’s thoughts.

“What’s more, the train runs on diesel rather than steam.”

“What’s…diesel, sir?” Scott asked.

“Diesel is another type of fuel that can be used to make an engine run,” Gresley said, looking back up at Scott. “There are arguments that it’s cleaner than coal and makes engines more efficient.”

“Is that true, sir?”

Gresley shook his head, looking away. “No,” he said distantly. “Diesel engines are expensive…expensive to buy and expensive to maintain. The LNER can’t afford their types right now.”

Scott never understood the financial of the situation of the LNER, but chose not to ask. He’d sensed he’d already diverted Gresley’s thoughts enough.

“What intrigued me the most, Scott, was how fast they claimed this train could run. I thought to myself, why can’t we do the same? With lighter loads, some engines like yourself can go quite fast. Our competitors to the west make a fuss about it. Why can’t we?”

Scott could see where this was going. He reminisced back to the trials between the GWR’s Pendennis Castle and his sibling, Victor Wild. The Westerner proved himself to do quite well on the LNER’s routes starting at King’s Cross but, as many people in the LNER agreed, Victor had proved himself to be stronger. It’s true, the A1/3 class engines were much bigger than anything the GWR had put out. They’d proved themselves stronger…why not prove themselves faster?

“I want to test this notion, Scott. We’ll use the standard equipment and the train will run from King’s Cross to Leeds.”

“Who will pull the train, sir?” Scott asked.

Gresley stood up straight and faced Scott, a smile growing on his face.

“You, of course.”

Scott’s eyes went wide. “Me sir?”

Gresley laughed, good-naturedly. “You are full of questions today, aren’t you, lad? Yes, you, Scott. You are the LNER’s flagship engine after all. What better engine to do it?”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Scott said, beaming with pride. “I will do my best to make you proud!”

“I know you will,” Gresley said, patting his buffer. “You’ve proven yourself time and again. If we prove we can go as fast as the Germans claim they can, they’ll remember us for years to come. I’m relying on you.”

Scott could barely contain his excitement as Gresley walked away after bidding him farewell. _They’ll remember us for years to come…oh, what an honor!_

\--  
  
A few days later, as Scott sat resting in his berth, he had another visitor.

“Hello, Scott,” the man called. This man was much different than Gresley. He had a thin face and was dressed in a driver’s uniform.

“You remember me, don’t you lad?” the man asked.

Scott carefully studied his face, then soon remembered. William Sparshatt, the ‘top link’ driver at King’s Cross. He’d recently become a favorite of Gresley’s.

“Oh! You’re Mr. Sparshatt! Yes, I remember you, sir.”

Sparshatt laughed. “Call me Bill, Scotty. None of this ‘Mr. Sparshatt’ nonsense. Leave that for Mr. Gresley. Speaking of Mr. Gresley, I take it he’s told you about this speed trial you’re to take part in?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott said proudly. It had been all he could think about for the past few days.

“Good lad,” Sparshatt said. “I’ve been asked to be your driver for the trial. I’m going to push you, Scott,” he said, turning serious. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories from your coworkers about me.”

Scott did indeed hear stories from other express engines. Sparshatt pushed whatever engine he was driving to maintain speed so as to keep to the tight schedules. He wasn’t an unkind man, but he kept a tight grip on the regulator.

“You put your best effort out there and we’ll help you. You want to leave the Westerners in the dust, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott said again. “Mr. Gresley told me he’s relying on me.”

“The whole LNER is relying on you, lad,” Sparshatt said as he began to walk away. “We’ll make the history books!”

There was that notion again. Scott smiled to himself, content with knowing so many people had placed trust in him to set the record. Of course he was capable of doing it. In fact, he hoped that Sparshatt would have to hold him back rather than push him.

Everyone was bound to be jealous! His A3 siblings were already jealous of his status as flagship engine. Scott wasn’t the strongest among Gresley’s Pacifics, but from day one, he had been deemed special. From the Empire Exhibition in 1924 to now, he’d been on a pedestal and everyone loved to see him.

Why should he be worried about what his siblings or other engines thought? They couldn’t come close to him. He was Nigel Gresley’s favorite, a title he cherished through and through. He would always be the darling of the LNER and this would only further prove that. Maybe he’d even be able to convince people that steam was far superior to diesel. Those Germans had no idea what they were talking about…

\-- 

_Present day_

Once Scott was turned around, he backed down onto his train in preparation for the return journey to London. He sat patiently as he was coupled up, preparing himself to go even harder than before.

“They’ve added a couple of coaches to the train, Scotty!”

Scott frowned. No one had told him they were going to do that. That would make the climb back up Stoke Bank harder…

“But no worries, lad! We’ll show them just what you’re made of! You did it before, just keep pushing!”

Scott tensed when he felt Sparshatt’s hand on the regulator. _Make Gresley proud…_

The final preparations were made and the guard put the whistle to his lips.

_Make Gresley proud…_

The shrill shriek of the whistle rang out and Sparshatt opened the regulator. Scott pulled forward and felt his wheels slip (a common occurrence among his class) before finding their grip. Before he knew it, he was on his way out of Leeds and moving down the line. The people who had steadily gathered on the platform waved goodbye to the train just like they had at King’s Cross. Scott whistled a goodbye and turned his focus on the tracks ahead.

Scott raced along, feeling his pistons pounding away as his wheels carried him faster and faster. He gave it his all, remembering what Sparshatt had said.

_Make Gresley proud…_

Faster and faster they flew along, Sparshatt leaning out of Scott’s cab as the fireman frantically shoveled coal into his firebox. Scott was breathing hard, but carried on, his exhaust once again beating time as he raced along.

_Make Gresley proud…_

Before he knew it, they reached the ascent to Stokes Bank. Five miles of a steep gradient which would slow him down. Five miles before he reached the top and then the air resistance would push back at him.

“Keep going, Scotty! Climb as hard as you can!”

Sparshatt kept the regulator wide open, holding steady onto it as the fireman continued to feed the fire. Scott felt the resistance beginning to slow him down, but he pulled at the coaches as hard as he could, his eyes trained on the summit of the hill.

_Make Gresley proud…_

After a while, it began to hurt. The hill was steep and Scott was sure he’d begin to slip. His pistons ached and his wheels felt shaky as he climbed and climbed. They got closer and closer and Scott began to grow dizzy from the pain, the heat, and the effort.

“Give it all you’ve got, Scotty! We’re almost there!”

Finally…_finally, _they reached the top. Thank the golden sheds above, they had finally crested the summit. He had slowed down considerably due to the effort, but he knew it was now or never. The momentum, the weight of the cars, and his own strength would push him to 100.

_Make Gresley proud…_

Scott felt himself tilting down as he began to travel down the other side of the bank. The air pushed back at him, but he knew he was stronger. Now, he began to pick up speed again.

“That’s it, Scotty! That’s it! Faster, lad, faster!”

Sparshatt needn’t have bothered shouting encouragement. Scott knew this was it. The coaches and their momentum propelled him forward, taking some of the strain off of his pistons. He pounded the tracks, feeling like he would go flying away into the sky at any moment.

They were quickly approaching the little station of Essendine and Scott knew he would have to slow down. However, he wasn’t about to relax so soon. Scott continued to accelerate, pushing himself along faster and faster. In that moment, he felt that his wheels were spinning impossibly fast, his pistons and rods just barely keeping up. Little did he know that the men in the dynamometer car were whooping with joy as they watched the numbers climb higher and higher.

_Make Gresley proud…_

Sparshatt was finally compelled to slow Scott down as they were very close to Essendine station. Scott felt him close the regulator a bit and apply the brake, if only for a moment. Scott was breathless as he passed through the station. The tracks in front of him were wavering as his vision blurred. He was so dizzy and tired now that he hoped that last push towards Essendine had done it.

“Come on, lad, keep her going!”

Scott couldn’t believe it. As soon as they’d passed through Essendine, Sparshatt threw the regulator open again, compelling Scott to keep up the effort. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again, hoping his vision would correct itself. Thankfully it did as Scott continued the rest of the journey to King’s Cross.

_Make Gresley proud…_

The mantra was still running through Scott’s mind as he continued to race along, Sparshatt shouting to him to keep up. Scott briefly wondered if Gresley had told him to do whatever he could to keep him going.

“Come on, Scotty, give it all you’ve got!” Sparshatt roared.

The final sprint to King’s Cross was almost unbearable. Scott felt as if he’d fall apart any minute. Thankfully, there were no more steep gradients he would need to climb.

“Keep going!!” Sparshatt yelled to him.

_Dammit, I’m giving my all. I’ve got almost nothing left to give!_

After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled into King’s Cross to the sounds of cheers on the platform. They’d arrived in record time: 157 minutes and 17 seconds according to the stopwatch of one of the men in the dynamometer car.

Scott was unable to speak as he stood by the platform, shaking with exhaustion and still panting from the effort. The men from the dynamometer car ran up to him excitedly.

“You did it, Scott! Just before you slowed down at Essendine, you did it! You reached 100mph!!”

Scott was so grateful. That last little push, which he did on his own, had now ensured him a place in the record books.

“Scott, I’m so proud of you,” a voice said.

Scott looked and there stood the one man he’d wanted to see.

“Sir…” he breathed, watching as a smile grew on Nigel Gresley’s face. “I did it!”

“Yes, lad, you did. You have no idea how proud I am!”

Scott nearly cried with joy. Once again, he’d proven himself to his creator. Yet this time felt even more special than before. This was more special to him than the Empire Exhibition. This was more special than the nonstop runs to Edinburgh. This was something that no other engine could recreate.

Photographers ran up to take pictures of Gresley shaking Sparshatt’s hand as he and the fireman leaned out of his cab. The crowds were pressed around him, shouting with joy and telling him job well done. The joy, the pride, the exhaustion all mixed together in Scott’s mind as he closed his eyes for a moment while he caught his breath.

“Good job, lad! Good job!” Sparshatt called to him, patting the side of his cab.

Scott opened his eyes and smiled tiredly at the crowds gathered around. They gave three cheers for him and his crew as the photographers snapped more pictures. Despite the noise and the excitement, Scott could only focus on one person.

_Make Gresley proud…_

Gresley had a huge smile on his face as he looked at Scott. The emotions finally boiled over and Scott felt his eyes well with tears.

“I did it, sir, I did it!” he gasped.

“_Yes_, Scotty, yes, you did. Now rest, lad, don’t get yourself all wound up. You’ve proven a lot today. You deserve a rest,” Gresley said gently.

Scott did his best not to cry in front of everyone on the platform. Thankfully, he was uncoupled from the train and was able to crawl to the shed to cool down.

\-- 

Scott had wept tears of joy after he’d finally made it to the shed that day. The workmen had laughed and patted his buffers as they rubbed him down. They were all so happy for him. Even the other engines in the shed offered their congratulations, albeit some were a bit disgruntled.

That night, as Scott put himself to sleep, he couldn’t help but think about the day he’d had. Two journeys and one had set a record. No one could take this from him now. He was officially the fastest.

_They’ll remember me forever. I’ll be the face of the LNER for years and years to come. No one can go faster than me. And I made Nigel Gresley proud…_

Scott sighed wistfully and drifted off to sleep with those thoughts still running through his mind. It would be a day he’d never forget and nothing could ever top it.


End file.
